Beneath the Ash Tree
by Trajectory of Simplicity
Summary: "It is said that the ash tree continues to grow even now, extending its branches into the entirety of creation, connecting all things together, including even the human soul." Libra tells Tharja a story, and she listens. LibraTharja. FE13


She stood beneath the shadow of the ash tree and watched as the young girl with the matted hair and the ragged clothes tried to pickpocket the handful of coins Tharja knew the priest kept in his robes at all times. As soon as she saw the girl's fingers reach out for Libra's pocket, Tharja was of the mind to cast a particularly painful hex that would have definitely made the thief think twice next time she tried to rob a holy man.

It turned out, though, that Libra was quicker than her. He had knocked the girl's hand away gently with a furrowed brow and a stern look that made even Tharja feel uncomfortable. She could only imagine what that little miscreant was feeling. The failed thief tried to turn tail and run, but Libra reached out and kept her firmly in place. Tharja clicked her tongue at his gentle method. _She_ would have done _much_ more than that to keep the sorry pauper in place and the sorceress almost chuckled aloud at all the fun possibilities that came to mind.

The young girl ducked her head in shame, the tips of her ears dyed red in embarrassment. Libra did not loosen his hold on the girl's arm and slowly descended until their eyes were level and she could not avoid his gaze. His lips began to move.

From her vantage point beneath the leafy canopy of the tree, Tharja couldn't hear what Libra was saying, but the peasant girl seemed to be listening, if her lifted chin was any indication. Muddy brown eyes peaked from beneath long eyelashes as the would-be thief glanced at the man she had almost robbed. Seeing her eyes, Libra smiled and continued speaking to her in lilting tones of tenderness.

Tharja frowned at his expression, crossing her arms almost defiantly across her chest. Above her, the wind blew through the branches and the leaves rustled.

Libra reached into his pocket and pulled out his coins. He held them out for a brief moment (Tharja counted six gold coins and bristled; that was all he had on him) before taking the girl's hand to pour them into her palm. His smile softened if that was even possible when he saw her eyes light up. He chuckled and patted her head before letting her go. She bowed at him repeatedly, a toothy grin spread across her face so wide Tharja had half a mind to see if she couldn't make it bounce right off.

She skipped away, clutching the coins close to her chest and Libra watched her go until he couldn't see her anymore.

"You don't have to stalk me from the shadows, Tharja. You're welcome to approach me at any time." Libra stood up and brushed off his robes before turning toward her with that infuriating, knowing smile.

Tharja sighed. So much for the element of surprise. "Hmph. I liked you better when you were scared of me."

It was a lie and Libra knew it. He was never scared of her; a thought that simultaneously irritated and intrigued her.

The priest chuckled, moving to join her under the shade of the ash tree. He placed a hand on the tree trunk and craned his neck upward to watch the way the sun shined through the leaves.

"There is a legend in Divine Scripture about the ash tree," he began. Tharja watched him closely as he reached up to grasp at a leaf that hung low from a branch. He broke it off and held it in his hand. "It is said that on the day the world's creation was completed, the newly born land of Gaia had already begun to reveal the abundance of her soil: trees of all kinds, flowers of all colors, and animals of amazing vitality. Life populated Mother Gaia in such plenitude that the Sky God grew jealous of the prosperity of the earth and so wished to gain the land for himself. He therefore sent the stars of the sky to fall upon the earth so as to destroy her, but just as the stars began to barrage the good soil of the earth, from the depths of her bosom came the sapling of the ash tree."

Libra turned toward Tharja who was watching him, disinterestedly. She had never heard this story before and she wasn't inclined to want to listen to it, either. She was Grimleal, after all, and Grima's worshippers had nonsensical stories of their own. But she thought she'd humor the golden haired man anyway.

"The ash tree grew with the force and strength of a warrior, penetrating its roots deep into the soil that birthed it and stretching its trunk so high it reached the clouds. Its leaves opened wide in a canopy of green that covered the sky. Its branches were so strong that it caught the falling stars before it could reach the earth, saving Gaia from certain destruction."

Here, he stopped his tale and turned to Tharja with emerald eyes shining. Tharja felt her cheeks heat under his scrutiny. She was still not used to people looking at her so straightforwardly.

She realized he was waiting for a reply from her. "So, what? That's the end?"

He shook his head, amused. "No, there's more." He continued, "When the ash tree had caught all of the stars in its branches, the gods thought it had finished its mission. Impressed by the ash's strength and fortitude, they thought to give the tree the highest honor of all: to place it among the stars to join them in the heavenly banquet. But the tree would not stop growing. It grew and grew until its branches encompassed the whole of the earth, blocking the sun, the rain, and all the mysteries of the skies. But cutting the earth off from the sky proved catastrophic. The earth became barren and dry. So, Mother Gaia cried out for help. It was the Sky God who answered her call."

Tharja didn't expect that. "The Sky God?"

Libra nodded in affirmation. "He knew that the removal of the ash tree was impossible at this point; it was far too strong and far too large. So, instead, he opted to water the roots of the tree with the nectar of the gods, granting the tree life eternal and path into the spirit world. Rejuvenated by divine food and drink, the tree became a spiritual being and lost its tangible form until the sky and the earth could meet once again. Since then, the two entered a friendship for the rest of eternity. It is said that the ash tree continues to grow even now, extending its branches into the entirety of creation, connecting all things together, including even the human soul."

He turned his smile upon her and he looked like a child at his birthday, giddy and wide-eyed and innocent. There was a little something biting at Tharja when she looked at his smile. It pierced her like a spear.

"Nice story," she said. To anyone who didn't know her, they would have thought she was being sarcastic. But from the smile that graced his face, she could tell he knew she was being sincere.

It was so strange being known, Tharja thought. Because she was Grimleal (and for other reasons Tharja could guess at), people tended to avoid her. Libra, though, had sought her out. He had volunteered himself at her feet, at her mercy, and had opened himself up to her in the way her Grimleal colleagues had done for Grima.

"It's one of my favorites," he replied. "The ash tree upholds all things in its branches, connecting them together, bringing order from chaos." He drew close to her and took her hand, placing the leaf he had taken from the ash tree gently in her palm. He whispered, "I like to think also that it was the ash tree that brought us together."

Even if she closed her eyes, she could feel him: his warmth, his gaze, his closeness. His voice was right next to her ear, his breath tickling at her skin. Her whole body felt alive. She shuddered, certain that it was not from the wind.

"Don't get so close to me," she said. "You're a priest."

He chuckled lightly, but still stepped away. She immediately felt his absence. "I'm not a priest," he corrected gently. "I'm a monk."

She rolled her eyes. "What's the difference."

He patted the weapon strapped to his back. "I wield an axe."

Fair enough.

"And in any case," he continued, "I'm not going to be a monk for much longer. I believe I will lay the cloth aside."

She looked up at him, then, her eyes wide. "What?"

He took one glance at her expression and burst into laughter. "You don't have to be so surprised. It's quite common for men and women to discern out of the clerical life."

 _But_ , she wanted to say. _But this is how I know you: a monk with an axe in your right hand and a staff in your left. What else will you be, if not a monk?_

He seemed to hear her unspoken question. "I think I will open an orphanage."

She blinked. "An orphanage."

 _Actually_ , she thought as the idea began to process in her mind. She thought of the young, homeless girl he had given all of his coins to. She couldn't help the smile that quirked the corners of her mouth upward as she imagined it. "I can see it."

He seemed pleased by her answer. He reached out to take her hand in his. The ash leaf lay flat between their palms. "Can you? I'm glad. I haven't told anyone else of my plans, yet."

"Well it's only natural you tell me first. I would have cast a hex on you if you hadn't."

His thumb stroked at the golden band upon her finger. "Indeed."

They stood underneath the shade of the ash tree. Above them, the wind shook the branches gently. Sunlight shone between the gaps in the leaves. It made them shine like emeralds against the sky.

"If..." Tharja began, "the ash tree brought us together, then that means the ash tree also put that darkness inside you."

He looked thoughtful, but it was a peaceful thoughtfulness. So different from the pained look he used to have whenever he thought about his past. "Hm... I never really thought about it that way. You might be right."

A disturbing smile twisted her features. "Then perhaps the ash tree is actually a spawn of Grima. If that's the case, if I could tap into that power, I can cast even more powerful hexes." She chuckled darkly at the thought.

Libra's beautiful face twisted into a grimace. "I'd rather you not attempt it."

She scoffed. "Typical Naga-worshipper. Afraid of the darkness."

Libra laughed good-naturedly. "I'm not afraid of the darkness, Tharja. I've lived in it for far too long to be afraid." He paused, then admitted gently, his voice filled with affection, "And I cannot help but be grateful for it. Just like how the catastrophe of the ash tree brought Mother Gaia and the Sky God into eternal friendship, perhaps its darkness was also the source of my light. Even though it was painful, in the end, it brought me love."

She felt her cheeks heat. It always made her blush when he talked about love so easily, especially when she knew he was talking about her.

"Just as the night breaks into dawn, from the darkness births the light." Tharja chanted the only Divine prayer she managed to memorize in her whole life. She had heard it once being sung in one of the few Divine temples that managed to persist in Plegia until the Purge. The melody and the words had stayed with her ever since.

"And from pain springs love. It is the eternal cycle of the gods," he finished for her. He looked at her with an expression that made her heart beat in her chest. "That's my favorite prayer. How did you learn it?"

The fact that their different pasts had at least one connection pleased her more than she would ever care to admit. "I heard it once long ago."

The two of them sat down among the roots of the ash tree, leaning against its strong trunk. Between their intertwined hands, the leaf seemed to burn with their shared heat. Tharja thought it might glow in that space between their palms.

Libra hummed the melody of the prayer they had just recited. Tharja would never admit it, but she liked the songs of the Divine faith. Their melodies were soothing and gentle, like a lullaby. It reminded her of Libra.

She looked up at the shining, swaying, leafy canopy above her head. She thought about a tree whose branches extended across the whole of creation and a little girl and a little boy meeting at an insignificant intersection within them. She thought of the darkness of the tree's shade and the sunlight peaking mischievously through it. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

Beside her, Libra sang on.


End file.
